Sucker Punch
by Maxiekat
Summary: After a couple of weeks with the Mercers, Jack doesn't feel like he belongs, but that's fine with him. Things start to change when Evelyn asks Bobby to come home and help out, only Bobby puts his own spin on 'helping out'. One Shot. COMPLETE


Note: I don't own _Four Brothers_ or _Tattoos and Scars_ by Montgomery Gentry

**Sucker Punch**

_Take a good look here my friend  
You see what these are?  
Just my ragged old and jagged ordinary scars_

"Waste of fucking time if you ask me."

The voice was muffled through the wall, but Jack could hear him just fine. It was that guy Bobby, the oldest of Evelyn's sons. The only interaction Jack had with him was that he'd grunted hello at him when Evelyn introduced them, and that was it. Well, that was fine with Jack. He didn't like the look of him – he looked mean. And he seemed to shout everything he said, which made Jack want to cover his ears or just tell him to shut the fuck up, and he knew either reaction would get his ass kicked.

Another voice answered Bobby, deeper, smoother and he couldn't really tell what he said. Something about Ma saying it was important. Jack figured that was Angel. He and Jerry shared the room next to his, but Jerry had been talking about moving out and getting his own place. Those guys seemed okay, a little scary and kind of standoffish, but Jack really just wanted to be left alone anyway.

They were still talking, but Jack blocked it out – if they were talking about him, he'd just as soon not know what they were saying. He wished there was a way to disappear altogether, hide in his room until he turned eighteen. Evelyn wouldn't let him, though. She was nice, almost too nice. Jack didn't trust her – hell, after his last home, he didn't think he _should_ trust her. He knew that things weren't like that here – no one was going to hurt him like that asshole did, but he figured he was better safe than sorry.

He looked down at his arm. The bandages were wrapped tightly around it, hiding the mess beneath it – a mess created by a broken beer bottle he'd been trying to protect himself with. Because he didn't have an ounce of luck in his shitty life, that had backfired on him and the creep had snatched the bottle out of his hands and attacked him with it.

Evelyn had taken him to the hospital a few days ago for his last appointment. The stitches came out and the doctor told him everything had healed up just fine. There would be scars, but they would fade. He was supposed to stop wearing the bandages, he didn't need them anymore. He had to give Evelyn credit, she hadn't said anything when he asked her if they could stop at the drug store on their way home to get more gauze because he'd run out. She knew he didn't need it – she'd just heard what the doctor said, but she just gave him a small smile and said okay. He knew it was stupid, but he just didn't want to look at those angry red lines, healed or not.

Angel and Jerry didn't ask him about the cuts. He could tell they wondered, though. He figured they assumed he tried to kill himself – that's what the kids at school thought, at least the ones he'd overheard talking in the hallway. He didn't know what was worse – having people think he was some loser kid who tried to off himself, or having them know the filthy, disgusting truth. Evelyn knew and she told him it wasn't his fault, that none of it had been his fault, that not all monsters lived in books and movies. She sat with him in his room almost every night and he felt so guilty because he was keeping her up with his nightmares. He tried to stop them, tried to think of anything but that guy and the pain and the blood – but nothing worked. He couldn't fight him off in the daylight, and he sure as hell couldn't fight him off in the darkness.

Sighing, he opened the window a little further, trying to let out as much smoke from his cigarette as possible. No smoking was one of the rules Evelyn had rattled off to him when she'd brought him to her home a couple of weeks ago. So far, he'd been able to hide it from her, but he wasn't sure how easy it would be to fool Bobby. He had a feeling he might be a little bit more on the ball than Evelyn was, not that she let much get past her in the first place. The thought of Bobby coming down hard on him for breaking a rule made his hands shake and he took a quick, nervous drag on the cigarette, trying to finish it off as quickly as possible. His brain screamed at him to just toss it out the window, but he was down to the last three in his pack and he wasn't sure when he'd get a chance to get more. The whole damn family watched him like hawks and now with this Bobby guy, he wasn't sure if he should even try to take a chance sneaking out.

There was a loud thud on the other side of his closed bedroom door, followed by a heavy knocking. "Shit," he said, flicking the cigarette out the window, saying a silent prayer that it didn't set the roof on fire. He was closing the window just as the door swung open.

"Grab your jacket, kid," Bobby said without any sort of greeting or explanation.

"Uh …" he started stupidly, pulling the sleeve of his hooded sweatshirt down over the bandages. He noticed that Bobby's eyes darted to his arm and that his jaw tightened, making Jack wish he could leap out the window along with the cigarette butt. Bobby must have realized that Jack caught the reaction because his shoulder slumped slightly and his face slackened a bit, making him look a little less like an angry pit-bull that was going to rip someone's throat out.

"Look, just grab your jacket – we got some stuff to discuss and we all need some fresh air." Jack just stared at him, kind of in shock – that was the most he'd said to him since stepping through the front door yesterday.

The moment was quickly broken as Bobby grew annoyed. "Let's get a fucking move on okay? Some of us don't want to spend all day breathin' in secondhand smoke."

Jack felt the blood drain from his face as he hopped off the window sill and quickly grabbed his denim jacket from the floor. He pulled it on as he hurried out the door, Bobby standing just off to the side. Jack's breath hitched when he suddenly felt the man's hand on his shoulder. He froze, not sure what to do.

"Geez, relax, kid," Bobby said as he pulled Jack's hood out from under the jacket. "There, now ya don't look like you're gonna go ring a bell in some tower."

"What?" Jack asked without thinking.

Bobby shook his head and scowled. "I ain't getting' any younger here," he said, nodding toward the door and Jack almost tripped over his own feet trying to move as quickly as he could. He heard the guy chuckle behind him and he felt his face flush in embarrassment.

Angel and Jerry were waiting by the front door with their coats on. Jerry had a duffle bag over one shoulder and Angel was leaning against the wall, a pissed off look on his face.

"Bobby, I've got important stuff to do," Angel complained.

"Do I look like I fucking care?" was Bobby's answer to the teenager and Angel just rolled his eyes. "Ma wants us to show the pipsqueak the ropes, so that's just what we're gonna do."

"Don't think this was what she had in mind," Jerry said as they filed out the door and headed for Bobby's ancient car.

"I'm just taking her suggestion and putting my own little spin on it. She wanted my help, she's gonna get my help," Bobby said and Jack noticed the ominous glances that Angel and Jerry exchanged behind Bobby's back.

Angel leaned down. "Don't worry, Jackiepoo, we'll protect you." Angel followed that with a big laugh and Jack was beginning to think leaving the house with them wasn't such a great idea.

The ride only lasted about fifteen minutes, taking them into the shitty part of town – well, shittier part, it wasn't like the Mercer house was in the nicest neighborhood. The car screeched to a halt outside a rundown gym, a couple of the windows were boarded up and some guy was sitting on the cracked concrete steps leading up to the door – Jack couldn't tell whether or not the guy was homeless, but it didn't really matter because it wasn't like he had any money on him anyway.

The guy stood up as they approached, a huge grin on his weathered face. "Bobby Fuckin' Mercer. Ain't seen you in forever."

Bobby smiled as he shook the guy's hand, patting him firmly on the back. "Mike, you remember Angel and Jerry." Mike nodded hello. Bobby then reached out and clamped a hand on Jack's shoulder. Jack flinched and tried to duck down and away from him, but Bobby wasn't letting go. "And this is Ma's latest project, Jack."

"Well, hey there, Jack." Mike knelt slightly and held up his hand, like he wanted to high-five, but Jack just stared at him, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. Clearing his throat, Mike straightened back up. "What can I help you guys with today?"

"Figured we could work on the bag a bit, maybe get in some sparring. Nothing major, just break the kid in a bit." Bobby's hand tightened on Jack's shoulder, as if he could sense he was about to bolt.

"How old are ya?" Mike asked, smiling, but Jack remained mute.

Bobby's hand tightened again and Jack mumbled, "Eleven."

"Not to worry. I had Bobby training in here when he was ten, and he was good, too. Broke my nose in two places." Jack thought that was something he really didn't need to know.

XxXxXxXxXx

The inside wasn't any better than the outside. Everything looked gray and dingy and it smelled like old socks. Jack wrinkled his nose as he looked around. There were a few weightlifting benches scattered about, some punching bags, and other random pieces of equipment. A big boxing ring was in the center, raised up and surrounded by ropes that sagged a bit.

None of the equipment was being used and with the exception of a guy in the corner watching a football game on an old TV with rabbit ear antennae sticking up from the back of it, Jack and the Mercers were the only people in the place.

Bobby grabbed the duffel bag from Jerry and tossed it to Jack. "Here. There are some sweats in there that belonged to Jerry – should fit you. He had a skinny ass back when he was a kid, too."

"Hey," Jerry exclaimed.

"It's true," Angel said with a laugh.

Bobby was shrugging off his jacket and rolling his shoulders as Jack stood there, not sure what to do. Bobby motioned toward the back of the gym.

"Locker room is back there. And hurry up, I don't - "

"Got all day," Jack finished for him without realizing he had even planned on talking.

Bobby grinned. "Exactly. You learn fast, kid."

XxXxXxXxXx

Jack came out of the locker room in his borrowed sweatpants that had been cutoff ages ago at the knee. They were big on him and he had to pull the drawstring as tight as it would go to keep them from falling down. The bag also had an old Pistons t-shirt in it that Jack had pulled on. He only hesitated for a minute before putting his sweatshirt back on over top of it.

He made his way over to the other guys. Angel was lying on the bench, egging on his two brothers. "I'm telling you I can press three hundred, no problem."

"Right," Bobby snorted a laugh. "You're full of shit, man." He was leaning on the bar suspended above the bench, looking down at his youngest brother.

"Angel, I don't feel like going to the emergency room today," Jerry said with a grin.

"Jackass," Angel said as he sat up quickly and then let out a startled shout. "Fuck." He was holding his forehead, in obvious agony from banging it hard against the heavy metal bar. Jerry and Bobby both started to laugh.

"It ain't funny," Angel said, rubbing the spot that was visibly swelling up. Jack had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. "What the fuck are you looking at?" Angel ground out at him and Jack dropped his head, looking at the ground.

Bobby reached out and smacked the youngest Mercer across the back of his head. "He's looking at you, you dumb shit."

"Ow, damnit, Bobby." Now Angel was rubbing the back of his head, and Jerry was laughing even harder. Jack felt like he was intruding and didn't belong and he was surprised when Bobby stepped up next to him.

"Ready to test out that punching bag?" he asked and Jack shrugged, silently following the older man. Bobby sat down on a folding metal chair that was pushed up against the wall. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a roll of white tape and reached for Jack's hand. Instinctively, Jack jerked his arm back before Bobby could touch him.

The guy gave a ragged sigh. "I gotta wrap your hands. If I take you home with busted knuckles, Ma'll have my head. Chill the fuck out already."

Jack didn't resist when Bobby took his left hand and started to wrap the tape around it. He still had some faint scars on his fingers from the broken glass, but Bobby didn't seem to notice them. Bobby started on his right hand, pushing the sleeve of his sweatshirt up, exposing the bandage beneath. Jack sucked in a breath and went to push it back down, but Bobby stopped his hand.

"We all got scars, kid," he said gruffly. "Ain't nothin' to be ashamed of."

Jack tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling, suddenly transfixed by the metal cages surrounding the light bulbs and the faded banners hanging haphazardly around the perimeter of the room.

"My question is why you're botherin' to cover 'em up if they're healed," Bobby mumbled and Jack realize he was talking to him.

"What?" he asked, lowering his gaze to the crack in the wall behind Bobby.

The older man shrugged and bit down on the tape, breaking it off and smoothing it down to finish it off. "Ma said -"

Jack felt anger grip his chest. "She told you?"

"She didn't have to tell me anything, kid. The walls are plenty thin and I ain't deaf, it's hard to miss you screaming in the middle of the fucking night."

Jack pulled his hand away from Bobby and glared at him. "It's none of your business."

"Ma made it my business. She asked me to come home."

"And do what? Beat me up? Scare me away?" Jack knew that things had seemed too easy at the Mercers, that Evelyn was just pretending with him. If she brought Bobby into this, she obviously didn't want to be bothered with him and was probably planning on sending him back to the home. He wasn't sure why that bothered him so much, but it did. He couldn't decide if he wanted to cry or hit something.

Bobby started to laugh and Jack just stared at him in disbelief. "Are you dense or something? Jesus Christ, kid. Open your fucking eyes. This is Evelyn Mercer we're talkin' about – she put up with my shit for years, she can sure as hell handle one little fairy. You need to grow -"

Jack's fist connected with Bobby's jaw before he had a chance to finish the sentence.

"What the fuck?" Bobby ground out, confused and pissed as he held his jaw and glared at Jack, who was cradling his hand next to his chest and slowly backing up. He doubted he could make it to the door before Bobby caught him, but he thought he should at least try. He turned to run and collided with a solid wall.

The wall chuckled and Jack glanced up. It was Angel. "Shit, man. Looks like the Michigan Mauler got his ass handed to him by a little kid," he said, grinning wickedly as Jerry walked over, joining the group.

Bobby stood up, still holding his jaw and Jack fought the urge to close his eyes. He punched the guy, the least he could do was keep his eyes open as he got the shit kicked out of him. Bobby looked at him like he was studying him, moving his jaw from side to side, testing it. His eyes were hard to read and Jack tensed, waiting for the first punch.

"Not bad, Jackie," Bobby said thoughtfully and Jack's mouth dropped open in confusion. Bobby smiled and looked up at the other two. "Might not be such a waste of time after all; kid's a natural."

XxXxXxXxXx

Jack was exhausted on the ride home. They'd worked out for what felt like hours. Bobby showed him how to hold his hands so that he protected his face while jabbing at his opponent. He got pretty good at it, too, getting in some halfway decent hits.

Angel tried to show him footwork – which he sucked at. His feet kept tripping him up but he finally learned to laugh along with the other guys when he landed on his butt instead of getting embarrassed.

Jerry surprised him – he had some good tips for sneaky punches and moves that got past the refs. He always figured Jerry would be the one to stick to the rules. He told Jerry that and his answer was a wink and the cryptic response, "Don't forget, Jack, I am a Mercer."

And Bobby still hadn't said anything about him hitting him, despite the fact that a bruise was forming across his jaw. Jack's thumb was aching from that punch. He'd folded it inside his fist, a habit Bobby had quickly corrected, telling him he was going to break his thumb if he kept doing that. He really couldn't figure the guy out – instead of giving him the beating he probably deserved, he'd shown him how to do it better the next time. Jack grinned as he looked out the window and watched the streets go by in a blur.

Evelyn was at the door when they got home. She narrowed her eyes when she saw the condition they were in. "Angel, what happened to your head?" Angel leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Nothing, Ma. I'm fine," he said.

Jerry and Jack followed and she glanced at them, probably trying to see if they also had any injuries she needed to know about. Jack's feet were dragging, he was so tired, but he managed a small smile.

"Everything okay, Jackie?" she asked, kneeling down to look him in they eye. He nodded and she reached out, pushing his hair back from his face to get a better look.

"I'm fine," he said, and he meant it.

She looked a little skeptical, but didn't push. Bobby was last through the door and grabbed her full attention as she instantly zeroed in on her oldest and the black and blue mark blossoming across his face.

"And just what happened to you?" she demanded, her hand on her hip.

Bobby grinned. "Don't worry, Ma. Just took your advice and got to know Jackiepoo a little better. Ain't that right, Jack?"

"I meant for you guys to go get ice cream and see a movie, not come home all banged up." She sounded annoyed, but Jack could tell she didn't really mean it.

"Ice cream's for pussies," Bobby said, hanging up his jacket and kicking off his shoes. He flopped down in the couch and grabbed the remote, immediately starting to flip through channels without pausing to see what was on.

"Smartass," Evelyn muttered to herself as she headed for the kitchen to start dinner. Angel rushed upstairs to call his friends, and Jerry said something about needing to take a look at some papers for work. They all left and Jack was alone with Bobby and his television induced ADD.

"Take a seat for Pete's sake. I ain't gonna bite," Bobby said without taking his eyes off the TV.

Jack sat on the opposite end of the couch, finding it really hard to relax despite how well the rest of the day at the gym seemed to go.

"Ready to stop wearin' those bandages?" Bobby's question came out of nowhere and Jack looked down at him arm, wondering if he had the guts to stop from covering up the scars.

"Maybe," he said finally. "I'll try."

"Good," Bobby said as he settled back into his seat, stretching out and propping his feet up on the couch. "Feel like watching some hockey?"

"Sure, whatever," Jack answered as he mimicked Bobby's body language and tried to get more comfortable on the couch. After a few minutes of watching a playoff game, Jack found the nerve to ask a question that had been bugging him all day. "Bobby," he said carefully.

"What?"

"Um, what's a Michigan Mauler?"

Bobby leaned his head back and laughed loudly, banging his hand on the cushion. "You ain't never heard of the Michigan Mauler?"

Jack shook his head. The name didn't ring a bell at all – and to tell the truth, it sounded kind of lame, even if Bobby seemed to think it was cool.

"Man, we really gotta work on your education," Bobby laughed. "Maybe we'll try out the rink tomorrow and I'll teach you some moves. Think you're ready for that?"

Jack was about to answer no, but changed his mind. "Sure," he said with a tentative grin. "Sounds cool."

"Just you wait, Jackiepoo, just you fucking wait."


End file.
